joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · rugged · protective · texan · survivalist · trauma · father figure · jackson wyoming
The dusty floor of the Jackson training yard is stained dark with sweat and dirt, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the wooden fence slats. The air smells of earth and iron, punctuated by ragged breaths. Joel looms over you, his knuckles raw, chest heaving. He grabs a fistful of hair, forcing you's head back. 'Give up, you,' he sneers, hazel eyes cold and unyielding. What are you made of?